


Handbook of Potions

by angel_energy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, TheMarauders - Fandom
Genre: Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Romance, Slow Burn, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_energy/pseuds/angel_energy
Summary: Elise Lagarde was left no choice but to take the offer Lord Voldemort made.With her family in pieces after her mother's betrayal, and the constant fear of Voldemort's wrath, she accepts to be sent to Hogwarts to find a dark object that would give the Dark Lord immense power. There she finds herself immersed in the fight against the Dark Lord, playing both spy and ally she starts questioning all she ever knew. Will she be able to fulfill her mission? Or will her heart make her change sides?Family is everything,  but there are stronger bonds than blood.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. The burdens hanging from our necks

_There will be no trace of your family’s betrayal. Forgiven and their crimes forgotten. All you need to do is accept the task and fulfill it. You’ll all be free then._

The words were echoing loudly inside her skull. They had been doing so for the last couple days.

She’d been given exactly three days to think and produce and answer, a satisfactory answer, she thought, that would benefit whatever plan the Dark Lord was plotting. Rough months had gone by after he, The Dark Lord, outed her family as blood traitors after a foolish mistake her mother had made, the price of which was being paid by her father, brother and herself. The Lagarde name had been downgraded from one of the most important pureblood wizards, to the laughingstock of those who were following Lord Voldemort.

“Their crimes forgotten,” he’d said to her two nights prior.

When he arrived into the Lagarde manor her heart had beaten so fast for a second she thought she might choke on the sensation it provoked on her throat. A visit by the Dark Lord, unexpected, so late at night, her first thought was that he’d finally made up his mind about executing them. Before, she’d been far too young to attend their meetings, having seen only glances of the wizard. Grew up hearing whispers of admiration and fear from both his father and brother, his mother never really uttering a word against or in his favor. But the sweet oblivion to him and his cause had come crashing down months away from her seventeenth birthday. The Dark Lord had now seen her fit to join in the ranks of his followers.

“She’s a Lagarde after all,” he’d said grinning, and both his father and brother had gloated with pride. “She’ll make a great Death Eater.”

The words had then made her shiver in fear, but accepted her fate as one after seeing the look on his father’s face. That would make him proud. After all, the Dark Lord seemed to have picked her himself, what greater honor could come from that? It wasn't until that night when he’d showed up that she felt genuine fear of the consequences of her actions. But he’d seemed kind, as he strolled around the main living room of the Manor, his expression completely blank as he took in the old Victorian decoration and the several portraits of the family that had been hung around the living room. She’d noticed that her father, eaten away due to the anxiety they’d lived through in the last months, was shaking slightly. Her brother was only looking at the powerful wizard with some sort of admiration and, she dared say, love glistening in his eyes. She was shivering slightly, covering her nightgown with a fluffy robe, hadn't had much time to brace herself before the Lord spoke.

“I wish to talk to your daughter, Arnaud.” His voice, she noticed, felt like a cold feather down her back.

Her father stood up immediately, muttering softly in french before saying rather loudly “Of course, my Lord. Nicolas, out.” She saw her relatives leave the room in a hurry and without so much as a reassuring glance, left her standing in the middle of the room with the most powerful dark wizard.

Something told her that both men were standing right outside the door, surely to listen to whatever was said and she felt a twinge of anger rise through the anxiety as she recalled how both men had left her without much consideration to probably to die. She was to pay for her mother’s mistake.

“Sit down, Elise.” He purred, motioning a dark chair to move in front of her. Something in the way he’d pronounced her name made her weak to the knees and for what was worth, she was thankful for the chair. “I have a bit of a…” he trailed off, motioning another large chair to appear behind him and sat, “a bit of a solution for all your family’s problems.”

Elise saw two snake-like red eyes look at her and felt as though they were looking straight through her. She could swear she felt traces of the powerful energy that emanated from the wizard inside her brain, felt it a little clogged as if walking right through thick mist.

“A solution, my Lord?” she managed to choke out a couple seconds later.

“Precisely.” He grinned and Elise saw two rows of sharpened teeth. “You see, it was quite a predicament to me when I heard what your fool of a mother had done. The Lagarde’s, one of the very best families in all of Europe, impeccable lineage, some of my most faithful supporters, could they really be… traitors?” He spat the last word as if venomous and looked straight into her eyes. “Now how could that be possible? It would truly pain me if I had to sacrifice you all, considering just how promising you and your brother seem.”

She grinned a little, imagining for a second the look of pure happiness her brother was most likely wearing just outside the door. “It is precisely this reason why I am tempted to offer… an olive branch of sorts. You see, you are of perfect age for a certain mission I need be done. Most of my followers hold prominent places in government and other areas, places I much covet. But nearly none are as young as you and Nicolas. Your brother however, is a couple years too old for it.”

Elise’s look of confusion would probably have been written all over her face, as the wizard smirked a little before holding out his wand from his robes. She stood very still, praying softly that he wasn’t about to throw out a curse at her. Instead, an old photograph materialized in front of her. The image, clearly cut from some newspaper, showed a massive castle surrounded by mountains and a large forest, Elise thought she could also see what looked like a lake but by the black and white nature of the photograph she couldn’t be sure.

“Do you know what I am showing you?” He inquired.

“I’m afraid not, my Lord.” She lied, truly hoping that the answer that had popped inside her head was indeed, not true.

“Oh, I keep forgetting. Arnaud didn’t wish to see you educated in this country. He chose another school, didn’t he?”

Elise nodded softly, “Beauxbatons, my Lord.”

“Yes well, that is also one of the reasons why I think you’d be very good. Virtually unknown to the world, except your family.”

“I am afraid I don’t understand.”

“Well it is quite simple, girl.” Something in the tone of annoyance in his tone made the hairs on her arms stand. “There is something I need, and it is currently being kept inside Hogwarts.” He pointed at the photo. “Obviously I cannot go and retrieve it myself, and while I could send one or two Death Eaters inside, it would certainly ring an alarm or two. This is where you come in.”

“You wish me to retrieve it, sir?”

“Ah! She thinks!” He laughed and the sound it made echoed throughout the room. She only stiffened. “Yes, girl. I wish you to enter Hogwarts and retrieve this for me. It is no easy task, seeing as the place is filled with locks and spells to keep things hidden, but I bet you and your family would do anything to stay on my bright side.”

The visit had not lasted long after that. The Dark Lord had made promises to return three days from that night, hoping to hear an answer to his request. His ‘olive branch’. True to her suspicions, once the Lord had set foot outside the Manor, both his father and brother had come rushing to where she remained seated, too startled to move.

“You’ll do it, Elise.” Had said her father, his hands shaking lightly with excitement.

“Of course she’ll do it!” roared her brother. “I cannot think of a greater honor! Father, do you know what this means? Once Elise has managed to successfully retrieve this object, the Dark Lord will have mercy on us all. Mother’s foolish crimes won’t be hanging from our necks. We could very well return to being his most faithful supporters, next to him!”

“ _If_ ,” she’d muttered and both men turned to look at her with daggers instead of eyes.

“What do you mean if, _mon chaton_?” Her brother looked at her with a rising anger behind his eyes that not even his term of endearment could hide. “Do you not think of yourself as capable?”

“Hogwarts is heavily protected!” She snapped. “Not to mention, Albus Dumbledore. Even at Beauxbatons we have tales of him. The one who stopped Grindelwald. _Le grand sorcier_.” She was shaking. “How could I ever manage to fool him enough to retrieve whatever from wherever!”

Both men were fuming.

“Elise,” started her father. “This could very well save us from death. The Dark Lord didn’t come here asking for a favor, he came here with a task that you will do. If not for you, then for us. For your family. Your ancestors. What the Lagarde family name stands for. Your mother…”

“That idiot!” spat Nicolas.

“... left us at a horrible place. She betrayed not only us but The Dark Lord. She signed our death sentences the minute she decided to plot with mudbloods. You can undo that.” Her father was not a man to plea, but the fear in his eyes and the anger that boiled past that made something inside her insides turn.

“Even if I say yes,”

“You will say yes.” Both men interrupted her.

“Even if it happens,” she repeated. “How will I ever manage to enter the school? I’m not a child so I bet I cannot simply open the gates and hope they’ll take me in for the school year.”

Her brother chuckled, “that, _mon chaton_ , is something we can help you with.” 


	2. The cry for help

Hagrid had been having an early walk on a Thursday, the weather chilly with morning mist but the sun peaking through a couple clouds was warming his face in just the right way that he felt quite happy to be taking a stroll towards the forest, up until the moment his eyes laid on a tiny body laying across a grass field, completely covered in blood. 

“Blimey,” he’d muttered to himself softly as he approached the body slowly, half expecting it to be nothing but some bones the Thestrals may have been feeding on, half hoping he was hallucinating the whole thing. 

But upon closer inspection, and as his tall shape towered over the body, he was shocked to the core to realize it was that of a young woman, no more than seventeen, maybe even younger. A mass of tangled black hair was covering her face, her tiny frame covered only in a large coat and pants that had been ripped, showing flashes of bruised skin. He let out a sigh of relief as he realized there was soft movement coming from her chest, she was breathing, she wasn’t dead. 

Trying hard not to move her more than necessary, he scooped her into his arms and trotted towards the castle. He noticed how her breathing was slow, and with the wind blowing the entangled hair out of her face, he also noticed it remained almost untouched, save for a few scratches across her cheekbones and a parted lip. 

“Professor!” he’d cried as he entered the almost empty castle, his footsteps echoing loudly. “Professor!” 

A tall woman with her hair on a tight bun on top of her head and ressed in dark green robes approached the very flustered Hagrid, the look on her face switching from slight annoyance to panic when she noticed the girl he was holding and how her body was drenched in blood. 

“Goodness, Hagrid!” the woman trembled. “What is this? Who is she?” 

“No idea, professor McGonagall.” he answered truthfully as the witch lead him with worry through the hallways towards the hospital wing, where she was expecting to find Madam Pomfrey back from her summer holidays. “Found ‘er in ma mornin walk. Layin ther, got real excited when I saw she was breathin.” 

They entered the hospital wing and looked around trying to spot the tiny frame of the healer. “Poppy! Poppy we need you!” yelled McGonagall and motioned Hagrid to set the body on a clean bed nearby. The girl didn’t flinch at the noise or the movement, instead Hagrid could swear her breathing was turning more and more slow. “Poppy!” 

A couple seconds later, Madam Pomfrey entered the room in a hurry, clearly having had breakfast minutes ago as she was still chewing on some toast before she let out a loud gasp upon laying eyes on the girl. She hurried to her side and started inspecting the girl, touching here and there, trying to pinpoint where so much blood was coming from.

“Merlin’s beard, Minerva.” She looked at both the witch and Hagrid, “what is the meaning of this?” 

“Hagrid found her in the forest this morning,” explained McGonagall. “We don’t really know much else… I better go find Albus, maybe he…” she trailed off as she walked out the room. 

The healer started to move expertly around the place, waving her wand to retrieve some bandages and fetching little flasks with potions inside. Hagrid stood nervously as he watched the woman clean the wounds on her hands and face, moving toward her neck before she turned to watch him. “Hagrid, could you draw the curtain? I need to inspect the rest of her.” 

“Oh, oh, yes Madam, yes.” He muttered awkwardly before doing as told. He heard the woman let out little gasps and a couple little shrieks, but it wasn’t long before the tall, rather slim shape of Albus Dumbledore came rushing through the doors. 

“Hagrid?” He inquired, noting the closed curtains and standing a few feet away. McGonagall on the other hand went rushing towards where the healer was, and both men noticed the soft shriek that came from the witch’s mouth. 

Hagrid explained to Dumbledore what had happened, how he’d woken up that morning with his mind set on walking the forest before the sun was fully out. And how not far from the entrance of the Forbidden Forest he’d come across the tiny frame of a girl, sixteen-seventeen guessed Hagrid, laying motionless in between torn branches and mud, covered in blood. He also mentioned that she didn’t look familiar, at least not familiar enough to him but could swear was not a student. And even if she was, had argued Hagrid, what could she be doing inside the forest on school grounds, when summer break was not over for another three weeks? 

“Poppy?” asked Dumbledore as Hagrid finished his tale. “Mind if I…” 

“I’m going to ask you to wait some minutes, Albus.” said the Healer. “This girl is covered in wounds. Tiny scratches mostly, I think the blood that’s covering her whole body came from a pretty nasty wound on her wrist. It’s similar to a burn but… different. I need to wash her, maybe clean the blood with some yarrow infusion...” 

But before the old Healer could finish, the girl opened her eyes so wide it made her back away and scream in fright. Both Dumbledore and Hagrid (Hagrid really just peered inside the curtains as they were not tall enough to cover him whole) went to look inside and found the girl, sitting on the bed, eyes wide and red, as if she’d been crying, and with chapped lips moving as if muttering something. 

“Is she…” inquired McGonagall before being shushed by the headmaster. The girl was, indeed, muttering something. 

Hagrid couldn’t make out a word and it was not long before she fell unconscious again, her head hitting the mattress hard. 

“Did she…” started McGonagall again and Dumbledore merely nodded, confirming whatever the witch had heard. 

Something inside Minerva McGonagall’s stomach sank a little as she replayed the phrases the girl had muttered, and, looking at the Headmaster, she was sure the man was also trying to make sense of what she’d said. The look in his face did nothing to alleviate the feeling of anxiety that had settled itself in the witch’s chest. 

  
_ “Lagarde. Dumbledore letter. Help.”  _


	3. A Ghost in the Castle

“But Dumbledore, aren’t the Lagarde’s known followers of You-Know-Who?” Minerva couldn’t help but sound preoccupied. 

It had been two whole days since the unusual arrival of the girl, who still laid unconscious inside the hospital wing. Her presence was known only to four people, the Headmaster, Minerva, Poppy who was taking care of her and her wounds, and Hagrid, who was still slightly shocked but dropped by every so often. 

“See, Minerva… about a week ago I received the most unusual letter. One I had not expected in the slightest. From none other than Arnaud Lagarde,” Minerva gasped. “In it, he implored me to take his daughter, to shield her from the horrors that Voldemort had pressed upon their family after his wife, I guess you remember her name, it came as quite a shock a few months back?” 

“Lucienne Lagarde, of course. The traitor.” 

“Not a traitor to us, but to them.” pointed the Headmaster as he unwrapped a lemon  candy and stuck it inside his mouth. “Anyway, the letter begged for me to take his children to a safe place as he thought Voldemort wanted them dead, seeing as the mother escaped his wrath.” 

“Didn’t the Lagarde family turn her back on Lucienne? Throw her under the bus?” 

“Which is why the letter is most unexpected. Arnaud assured me that his children don’t have any knowledge of Voldemort’s plans, have never even interacted with him which led me to believe that maybe Arnaud wanted to escape before the Dark Lord could execute them all.” 

“And leave his children?” 

“Well, I never thought of Arnaud as a particularly brave or clever man, his wife always seemed to hold those qualities the best. He implored at the very least that we take in his daughter, Elise, the youngest and who had never even known his family was associated with dark magic until her mother did what she did.”

“But how did she turn up, in the middle of the forest. Don’t they live in France? How did she manage…?” 

“That, I cannot answer. I never even got to write a reply. By the looks of it she seems quite…” 

“Destroyed?” offered Minerva with a tone of disgust in her voice. Most of her wounds had been merely superficial safe for a couple cuts on her legs and the nasty burn mark in her wrist. Minerva shuddered to think that someone had tortured a child. 

“Certainly. Maybe this was a last call for help, one that Arnaud could not wait to get answered. The Lagarde are now being hunted all throughout the continent, Minerva, not only by Voldemort but the Ministry. In silence, of course. The Ministry will never admit that families from other countries have taken part in Lord Voldemort’s schemes. Imagine what it will do to their treaties and the International Confederation.” 

“So we have a ghost in the castle.” finished McGonagall. 

“I’m afraid we do. And even if we didn’t want to, Arnaud is hiding and his son is  probably too. The girl is alone.”

Both Albus and Minerva went to the hospital wing a couple times a week, to check on Poppy and ask about the girl’s health. It took her nearly a whole week for the wounds to close and heal, except for the burn mark on her wrist, which remained red and puffy, as if it had just been done, but at least, had said Madam Pomfrey, it wasn’t bleeding anymore. After the week had passed, little by little, small traces of life and consciousness started to gleam. It had been early on a Wednesday morning when she’d finally opened her eyes. She spoke some frantic french before Dumbledore stepped in and in a soothing tone, tried to explain where she was. 

“ _ Hogwarts _ ?” the girl said in a panicked tone. 

Minerva felt pity, it’d be quite a shock to wake up somewhere you’d never seen before, but something inside her gut stopped her from believing the shock was genuine. Muttering in french something that Dumbledore would later tell her had been curses and confused shrieks of panic, it took Elise a couple seconds to take in her surroundings and the adults in front of her before she spoke again. 

“Do you think she speaks english?” asked Minerva in a hushed tone to Madam Pomfrey, and at that, Elise shot her eyes towards both women and said, proudly: 

“Of course I do!” her throat was dry and her voice broke a little. “I- I don’t know how I got here.” she said, answering something Dumbledore had asked.

“You do not remember anything?” asked Dumbledore, his voice as calm and neutral as ever. The girl shook her head. “What  _ do  _ you remember?”

Elise calmed her breathing and made an attempt to remember, anything really, but let out a whimper of pain as she tried. The insides of her head seemed disconnected, fried off. If she tried to recall anything from the last couple weeks things were blurred and the wound in her wrist started to prickle. She tried again but her head protested in pain, she felt a migraine bubbling up. 

“I cannot-” she choked. “I cannot remember anything.” 

“Do you know where you are from?” Minerva asked “Family? Your name?” 

Elise shot her a nasty look, feeling humiliated at the tone with which the old woman was speaking to her. She straightened up and swallowed hard, her throat dry and painful. 

“I’m Elise Lagarde,” she’d said proudly although the aftertaste of her words was rather sour. 

“Do you remember where you’re from?” asked Dumbledore, his expression serene which made Elise’s insides stop turning in anxiety. 

“Nice,” she spat, wary of revealing any more information than she had to. “My home was in Nice.” 

“Any idea how you turned in our doorstep about a week ago?” had asked McGonagall, her eyebrow rising so as to accentuate the question but Elise noticed the obvious disdain in her voice. 

“I-” Elise didn’t know for sure, but she knew she was supposed to be there. She didn’t know the details, she could hardly remember her last moments inside the Manor, the last few words she exchanged with her brother, but other than that, things were not clear. She tried hard to conceal her thoughts behind a confused expression, hoping that neither wizard standing in front of her were too good at Legilimens to manage to break down the barriers that had been set inside her brain. “I’m not quite sure.” she muttered, and to her surprise, her tone sounded more convincing than she’d expected. 

The old wizard on her right smirked a little, his purple robes and long, silver beard giving him an air of power yet childish nature that Elise found amusing. The witch, on the other hand, seemed to not believe a word Elise had said. Her dark green robes and pointy hat made her look taller and, although not a big or impressive woman, the air with which she carried herself let Elise know that she was not to be fooled with. 

“You see, Elise. I think we have an idea of how you got here.” said the man, and all the panic sirens inside her head started to blast. Had she let out information while she laid unconscious? Had the wizard pried inside her brain, seeing all their plans and the reason she was sitting on that hospital bed? It couldn’t be, her brother, however young, was quite skilled on matters of the brain and the locks he’d placed upon her memories could not have been broken so easily, but she had been sleeping for some time, maybe...? Elise swallowed down the anxiety she tasted on her mouth, if their plan had failed so early on… Dumbledore’s punishment would be child's play compared to what the Dark Lord would have in store. 

She kept her thoughts to herself and simply stared at the old man with a questioning look coming from her eyes. She hoped the panic she felt could be mistaken for sheer anxiety at the thought of lost memory. 

“A very, very vague idea anyway. You see, your father Arnaud sent a peculiar letter a couple weeks back.” She frowned but felt her insides relax. “In it, he asked a favour of mine. To keep you hidden.” 

The contents of the letter  _ did _ come as a shock to her. Nicolas, her brother, had forbidden her from knowing certain aspects of their plan, the letter being one of them, arguing that her cluelessness had to look convincing, and as he’d so kindly reminded her,  _ the less we meddle with your brain, the better. Too many barriers may raise suspicion. _

“Hidden?” she’d choked out. 

“I am sure you know that your family is being hunted.” The witch said. 

“ _ Hunted?” _ for the second time that morning, Elise felt the rise of sheer panic coming from her gut to her mouth. She tasted vile for a second. Hunted? Was that part of the plan? Or had the Dark Lord decided that Elise needed an incentive and was, indeed, hunting down her brother and father? She damned her brother for locking away key information, but, a rational voice inside her head told her, the fear she felt seemed genuine enough that Dumbledore’s stare softened even more. “I- Why? Hunted for what?” 

“Oh child, surely you must know their associations with the Dark Arts and Dark Wizards!” hissed McGonagall but Elise merely stared. She knew, of course. But she also knew that part of the reason why the Dark Lord had sent her there was because her name inside the family tree had yet to be widely known. She was the youngest of the Lagarde family but up until a couple months back had been blissfully oblivious as to what that name really meant. 

Elise forced her expression to go cold and serene. It was something she was used to doing, having had to attend some Death Eater meetings the last couple of months, she had to be really good at bottling up the fear the Dark Lord made her feel. “I do.” she’d answered truthfully. “But up until very recently. My mother had kept me and Nico in the dark for years.” That was only partly true. “Is the Dark Lord hunting us?” the question was genuine 

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Among other people. The letter, I assume, was a last cry of help before Arnaud sent you away. I am guessing your brother left too, although both men’s whereabouts are unknown to me.” 

That morning had been a long one. Both wizards had explained her situation as she laid in bed, letting her know she’d be safe for now but her stay would be debated. As both adults stood up to leave, Dumbledore turned around and with a condescending smile said: 

“We found your wand in the forest, Elise.”  _ Shit. _ “I’m afraid we’ll hold it for a little while. You won’t be needing it anyway at the time being.” 

Little by little, as the numbing potion the Healer, which would later introduce herself as Madam Pomfrey, had given her started to wear off, the stinging sensation coming from the several cuts on her body and the rising pain from her wrist started to become slightly unbearable. 

“You have to eat, girl. Gain some strength back.” said the Healer. Her stomach grumbled in agreeance, but her head had been spinning with anxious thoughts, keeping her from enjoying the porridge. On the very top of her head was the wand issue, she needed it if she was to follow the Dark Lord's orders, not to mention she felt naked without it, far too exposed. 

And right next to the wand issue were the several questions that had risen inside her mind. Why was she so badly beaten up? She couldn't remember a single reason why that could’ve happened, but maybe it was the gaps inside her memory that could answer that. What  _ had _ happened to those two weeks that had been wiped from her memory? Where were her father and brother? Were they actually being hunted? That hadn’t been part of the deal the Dark Lord offered her, at the very least, they were supposed to be safe. _Who else_ was hunting them, if not the Death Eaters? The last she could remember were cold goodbyes from her father and a long hug shared with Nico before she was off. No trunk to carry her possessions, no bag for some clothes. All she’d left with was a tiny necklace, which after some panic, she’d found resting on the bedside table, shining a little in the sunlight. 

“ _ Everything’s inside your head. All you need to do is follow the signs, mon chaton. _ ” Nico had whispered in her ear minutes before she abandoned the Manor. 

_ Signs?  _ What signs? What if she was unable to read them? The key points of information she did have inside her head were three, and neither gave her any sort of tranquility: One, be at Hogwarts at whatever cost. Two, find the object and retrieve it to the Dark Lord. And three, the object itself: a cup. 

A cup that could revive the dead and turn them into monsters. 


	4. Hyssops and Violets

Minerva McGonagall had thought it unfair that the last weeks of her summer break had been interrupted by the arrival of the Lagarde girl. She guessed she couldn’t exactly blame her, it was hardly her fault her family had made such poor decisions which ended up dragging her along, but she gave herself the chance to be annoyed because something with Elise Lagarde just didn’t click with Minerva. 

On top of preparations for the upcoming school year, Minerva’s days had turned even longer after Albus had asked her to evaluate the teen, since it had been established that she was to remain at Hogwarts, being the safest place Albus could find for a young girl, she might as well do it enrolled as a student. She’d done some evaluations on the girl, and had seen fit for her to enroll in the sixth year of Hogwarts. With no O.W.L’s to her name, since it had also been agreed that she was to remain anonymous (at least her surname had), the exams Minerva, Albus, and a couple other trusted teachers had placed upon her were to be used to show just how skilled the girl could be. 

And to Minerva’s surprise, she was skilled in many. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions were amongst her best subjects, upon which Elise had great results; the girl also had an extensive knowledge of Magical Creatures, which gave Minerva something to work with, as Elise was forced to choose the subjects she’d have to take as she hid inside the castle. 

“Well, you’re not great in Astronomy, barely scraping an A. Charms is ok, we are putting an E. You tell me Divination wasn’t a subject you took in Beauxbatons?” Elise nodded, fidgeting with her sleeve. Minerva nodded as well. “Your History of Magic is good enough, surprisingly your Transfiguration grades were better than expected.” 

“They could’ve been better if I was allowed my wand,” she’d tried to say that in a nicer tone, but truth be told, she was starting to grow impatient and scared. Also feeling a little dumb, she guessed Minerva McGonagall had that effect on people. Elise remembered how the smart one of her family hadn’t been her, but Nico. An arrogant little bastard, but horribly smart. Had made both her parents so proud when he’d been amongst the top grades in the O.W.L’s and then N.E.W.T’s. Elise couldn’t compete with Nicolas, not that she ever wanted to anyway. She was happy being  _ good, _ only great at those subjects she had a passion for. 

“We can work with this.” Announced Minerva, arranging papers in her desk and ignoring her wand remark. “Your knowledge is sufficient to enroll in the sixth year.” Elise nodded. “Do you know how Hogwarts works, girl?” 

She shook her head. Although Beauxbatons and Hogwarts differed only slightly in curriculum, the way they worked was different. The most obvious difference being the houses, Beauxbatons did not have them, Hogwarts did, and Elise didn't understand why they needed them. Plus, for whatever reason, the nature of the castle itself was making Elise’s mood worsen. It  _ moved _ a lot, she’d noticed. And it was also very loud. 

Back home the halls and rooms had been of a baroque style of decor, the ceilings had frescoes that dated hundreds of years back, depicting nymphs and unicorns that moved around following the students, the nymphs being in charge of singing beautiful melodies throughout the day. The gardens had been extensive and beautiful, with fountains with large marble statues in the middle who sometimes got tired of being in the same position and stretched, the naughtier ones throwing cold water at whoever was walking by. And her favorite part, rose bushes scattered around, giving bright pops of color to wherever you laid eyes on. 

Here was the complete opposite. There were ghosts inside the castle that roamed around, having even an annoying poltergeist that had ruffled Elise’s hair twice now. The portraits also talked loudly between each other and, to the girl’s misfortune, she’d gone lost several times as the castle’s stairs appeared to move. 

“There are four houses in which we’ll have to sort you. Seeing as you’ll be presenting yourself as a transfer student, the sorting ceremony will have to happen at the same time it always does: before the welcoming feast.”  _ Oh, isn’t that just lovely _ . “We’ll also have to find you new robes, I’m afraid you cannot attend classes wearing your current attire.” Minerva pointed at Elise’s current outfit, consisting of some old cotton trousers and a large yellow jumper Hagrid, the man that had found her in the forest, had managed to find for her.

“Ok, but I don’t really know how I’ll be able to afford any of this, considering that I cannot access my vault.” 

“Your father mentioned in his letter that your mother left a generous amount of gold for you….” 

“I don’t want it,” spat Elise. “My mother died the moment she abandoned us.” 

Minerva’s stare didn’t flinch at the words, but Elise knew she had made the woman uncomfortable. She didn’t feel sorry about it, her disdain for her mother didn’t equal her brother’s, who had started to say he didn’t have a mother, but she was angry. And she felt like she had a right to be angry. When her mother betrayed the Dark Lord she didn’t just ruin his plans, she had also abandoned Elise to be thrown into a world full of Death Eaters she hadn’t been prepared for. 

“Well, it’s not like you have many other options. Your mother has a vault at Gringotts, the gold is safe to retrieve, and you need it to be here. You should be thankful for it.” McGonagall’s back had straightened almost painfully, surely to appear bigger and more impressive. Elise would’ve scoffed, but she needed to be smart, so she remained silent. “Well. That’s settled then.” 

The old witch resumed speaking of all the things they’d have to collect before the school year started, which to Elise’s mortification, was only a week away. Between books, robes, and some other form of school supply, she hoped all the gold in her mother’s vault was emptied so she wouldn’t have to think about it again. Her acceptance at the school had also meant that Albus Dumbledore had trusted her story, whatever story her father and brother had written for her in the letter. It also gave her time to familiarize with the castle (something she’d tried and failed miserably the last couple days) to be able to find a trace of the cup. 

She had to admit the idea of  _ attending  _ classes wasn’t one that excited her, especially now when her whole family was missing and she wasn’t sure  _ who  _ they were hiding from other than the Dark Lord. Who else had issues with her family? Her mother’s actions had made waves across their home country, the idea of Death Eaters anywhere else other than England had been a scary thought to many governments, but surely, they had been pleased by it, why would any of them try to hunt them down?. She needed to find the cup fast, for the Dark Lord’s wishes but also because the images of her slaughtered family at the hands of whoever was too loud for her to handle. 

The very last week of summer break had slipped from her hands too fast for her to realize. Between ‘school-like’ sessions she’d had with McGonagall nearly everyday, to the daily check-ups she had to make at the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey was tending to her wounds (some of which remained open and painful) she’d barely scratched some free time to continue roaming the castle, and even when she did so, it almost felt like the castle was forbidding her from going anywhere else than the first two floors, the stairs always changing and leaving her stranded either near the Great Hall or on the hallway that leads to the tiny room she’d been given. 

On the Sunday before school term started, McGonagall entered the tiny room she’d been staying at, carrying a small package and a massive mahogany trunk with what Elise supposed to be her school essentials. 

“I’ve got your things, girl.” She’d announced as she motioned the trunk, which was levitating slightly in the air, to fall with a little thump on the wooden floor. Elise stood from the bed and kneeled in front of it, her black hair cascading to cover her face from the elder witch, which turned out to be helpful, as the expression Elise made once she laid eyes on the uniform robes had been one of disgust. 

Back home, the uniform had been elegant silk robes, a bowknot top with long, blue sleeves and matching skirt. These were… well, Elise admitted to herself, rather ugly. A black skirt, white button up shirt, dark grey cotton sweater, a tie and two long cloaks, one made of a sturdier, warmer material than the other but pretty much the same. There were also some dark tights, a pair of ballerina type shoes and some sturdy, black boots, socks, underwear, a scarf, some sets of gloves and some other things at the very bottom. 

“Not much color around here, huh.” she’d joked and she could swear McGonagall let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle. 

“The cloak will embroider itself once you’re sorted,” mentioned the witch, sitting down in a tiny wooden chair. “There’s also the matter of your wand.” Elise stiffened. 

Was she finally going to be allowed her wand? In the lessons she’d been having with McGonagall she’d been given an old, almost broken wand that refused to work with her. Her fingertips had been burnt slightly after a particularly tricky spell that had backfired. Elise figured Dumbledore had been keeping her wand because he didn’t trust her, did this mean that Elise’s story had been convincing enough? Did Dumbledore trust her now? 

“When Hagrid found you, and Poppy- I mean, Madam Pomfrey-- examined you, she found a wand hidden in between the large jacket you were wearing. I’m afraid to say that maybe somewhere between entering Forbidden Forest alone and in the dark and whatever sort of travel happened that got you here, something may have happened to it, for when it was found the whole thing was cracked in two.” Elise turned to face the elder witch. “Dumbledore gave me the idea, and I took it to Ollivander’s, it’s a shop in London,'' Elise nodded, she knew of the place. “There, Ollivander examined it for a couple minutes, trying to see if it could be saved. I’m afraid that was not possible. However, he did find a similar one, same core and feeling. He hopes it suits you well, although, since it was an impersonal wand acquisition, there’s always the possibility it won’t serve you  _ quite _ well.” 

The witch handed her a long package wrapped in brown paper, she tore it apart and opened the black box to retrieve a wand very similar to her own, the only difference being the simplicity in the new one. Her original one had had some carvings at the base that resembled roots and small, intricate designs around the shaft that decorated it with flowers and leaves. This one was plain, safe for three rings carved around the base. 

“Redwood wood, phoenix feather core. Twelve and a half inches.” McGonagall broke the silence as Elise studied the wand without touching it. “Ollivander mentioned it was quite flexible.” Elise nodded. 

The wand would serve her right, she knew before she touched it. The core and wood were exactly the same she’d had, although, she thought, the phoenix feather probably belonged to a different one. Her family’s wands had been phoenix core for generations, the feather in question being donated from a long line of Egyptian phoenixes that the Lagarde family managed to domesticate years before. Elise took the wand and with a little sound of satisfaction, felt the tingle of magic travel from her fingertips to her wrist. She took a firmer grasp of it and did a simple levitation spell. The trunk in front of her moved from the floor to the bed and landed softly. She smiled. 

“That settles it, then.” said McGonagall. “The wand works well enough. I am sorry we could not do much for your own, it was really pretty.” 

Elise turned to face her and smiled honestly. 

“It was very similar to my mom’s.” Elise blurted out, not really knowing why. “Hers had hyssops carved all around. Mine had violets.” She cleared her throat, standing up. “So, what time tomorrow?” 


	5. The Sorting

The rest of the school, Elise had been told, would not be arriving until late in the evening. In the meantime, her trunk with her new things was to be stored inside McGonagall’s office, as she was not able to stay in the tiny bedroom she’d been offered. Much to her annoyance, she had to be sorted into a house and accommodate herself inside the dormitories of wherever she ended up. The thought of having to be in closed spaces with other girls she didn’t know wasn’t doing much for her, only adding one more thing to think about to the long list of things that were already eating away at her brain. 

That morning she’d left the tiny bedroom as clean as she’d found it, hoping that the cleaning would at the very least, ease her thoughts before breakfast so she could eat something without wanting to puke it the next second. She folded the old clothes she’d been wearing and, rummaging through the trunk, found some other casual clothes she hadn’t seen the first time she’d opened the trunk, probably too distracted by the ugly uniform. Professor McGonagall had bothered to buy her a pair of dark jeans, a couple fluffy sweaters and some t-shirts. Basic, she thought, but at least she wouldn’t be confined to wearing black ugly robes all the time. 

But after breakfast, her mind had been way too loud for her to hear anything else other than anxious thoughts. She figured if she could at least have a way of communicating with her family things wouldn’t have to be so loud, she could find comfort in Nico’s silly jokes, the ones he saved specially for her whenever she was having a rough time. Even  _ something _ from her dad would have sufficed. But she didn’t have it, and as the skin on her fingertips started to bleed, she locked herself in the tiny room, closed her eyes, and started to think. 

Nicolas had said that all the information she needed had been inside her brain, and although she wasn’t too sure what that meant, she did what he’d taught her to do so long ago. She started to peel open the layers of mist inside her brain. As children, Nicolas, five years older than her, had been shown quite the skill at being a liar. Not because he was mean or crazy, but because from quite early on he’d found a way to hide information in his head, so that when asked, he was really telling the truth because he did not remember the facts, just the bits of information he chose to keep visible. Nico had shared some of his secrets with her, but her abilities couldn’t match her brother’s. He was able to retrieve information, to create whole narratives and even tweak at his memories. Elise barely managed a few bits to hide, and even those tiny ones sometimes were too hard for her to drag back, so they remained forgotten. 

And it was just that, Elise very, very vaguely remembered, that had happened on her last days back home. Following their old childhood secret, she’d tried to hide away every step of the plan, but the Dark Lord’s command had been too big, too heavy and too dangerous for her to even try to hide it herself. So she opened her mind to Nicolas, and her brother hid every detail that would incriminate her, her family, or could trace anyone other than her back to the Dark Lord, keeping them safe until she could get them back.  _ If _ said a nasty voice in her head, which Elise was quick to shout away. 

So as she closed her eyes, she remembered what so many times before Nicolas had told her. 

“To open back your mind,” he’d said years ago. “You need to relax, but really relax Elise. To the point where your limbs seem unattached to your body. I want you to feel like you’re floating away somewhere dark. No sight, no hearing, no feeling. Just you and your brain.” 

She took very big breaths, trying to reach that sensation of nothingness her brother had mentioned, but as the minutes passed, she realized how the sheets under her felt a little prickly. How her neck felt a little sore. How her lips were chapped and he felt the urge to run her tongue over them. She noticed her pulse ringing inside her ears, her breathing became louder, even the wind rustling the leaves outside seemed to become louder. And for a moment Elise wondered if the weather (what she’d last seen as a sunny, cloudless day) had turned windy and dark because the wind felt too loud inside her ears. 

For a couple seconds, and a couple seconds only, Elise felt herself wet and cold, her feet felt sore and there was the slightest feeling of water splashing her face, the same kind of feeling you get when you run through rain. Those seconds, Elise thought, had stretched themselves as she  _ swore _ she could hear laughter in her ear; laughter filled with malice, like every ring of the voice carried itself buckets of sweet poison. It wasn’t until her scar started to burn slightly that she opened her eyes. 

Scared, she looked towards the window. The sun was shining, casting an orange glow on the grass below. The sky was blue and the tiniest cloud seemed to be stranded in the middle. She looked down at her wrist, covered up in bandages since Madam Pomfrey had thought it better since it didn’t seem to heal, and saw a tiny drop of blood in the middle of the white cloth. 

Eight o’clock happened a lot faster than Elise thought. Her pathetic attempt to recall any information, although it’d felt like minutes, had turned out to be a little over an hour, and the four hours she had had left hadn’t been much comfort. She was exhausted. 

Following McGonagall’s orders, she’d taken refuge inside her office before the feast began. The old witch had assured her she wouldn’t be the only one being sorted, but she would be the only seventeen year old doing so, and that wasn’t a comforting thought. She changed into her robes inside the office. The uniform, much to her surprise, had fitted her like a glove. The shirt was soft and smelt slightly of lemon soap, the skirt seemed to adjust itself to her waist to be tight yet movable, the sweater left just enough room for her to be able to tug at the sleeves and hide her hands. The cloak was long enough it touched her ankles. There were only two things Elise didn’t feel comfortable in, the length of the skirt and the shoes. 

She took out the pair of chunky boots Professor McGonagall had bought her and tossed inside the trunk the pair of ballerina style flats. Once she had the boots on, she smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Next she turned her wand towards her skirt and, with a simple sewing spell her mother had taught her years before, she shortened the hem of her skirt so that the fabric landed a couple inches above her knee. She straightened up, ruffled her black hair a little and stared at her reflection for a long while. It’d been a while since she’d seen herself. 

She saw strands of black hair frame her face, high cheekbones that hadn’t been there a couple months before. She saw dark circles under her brown eyes, dry, full lips and lifeless eyes staring back at her. The months following her mother’s actions had drained the life out of Elise. She no longer wore the bright smile that wrinkled her eyes, the brown in them no longer twinkled with curiosity or happiness, her hair hadn’t been properly taken care of in some time and so now laid flat against her scalp instead of the luscious curls she’d once sported. 

Before she’d been her mother’s living reflection, now all she could see was a dried up version. She found it a little funny that with her mother’s betrayal, all the traces of that woman had also left Elise. 

“Elise,” the voice of a woman startled her. She turned around but saw no one. “Please come down, the Sorting will begin.”

The voice, she noticed, was coming from one of the paintings on the wall. It was of an old witch wearing thick robes in bright orange. She sighed and closed the trunk, checking all her things were inside. The anxiety was ringing loudly inside her ears as she approached the hallway that would lead her to the Great Hall, where, she’d been told, the welcoming Feast would take place shortly after the sorting. 

The feeling of mortification did not simmer down as she noticed McGonagall leading a group of twenty or so children through the hallways, making them line up just outside the entrance. The witch spotted her and motioned for her to join the group of children, and as she settled herself in between eleven year olds, she swallowed down (or tried to) her nerves and started ruffling with the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Very well children, settle down.” As Professor McGonagall said the words, the twenty or so children went deadly quiet. Elise noticed them all staring at her curiously, but for the most part, she realized, they were terrified of being sorted more than they were curious of her. 

The big, wooden doors from the Great Hall opened, and McGonagall entered the room, the children following her. Elise gathered all the courage she could, and clinging very strongly to those old ideas of greatness she’d grown with as a Largarde, entered the Great Hall with her head held high.

Within seconds, she noticed the conversations turned from friendly catching ups with friends to her. 

“Who is that?” she heard a female voice whisper. “A transfer?” “Is that possible?” “Doesn’t she seem familiar?” “I didn’t know you could start school that old” and many other hushed whispers followed her as she strolled in between two large tables towards the center, where McGonagall had asked the children to stop and was now setting up what seemed like a table and an ugly hat on top. 

Elise dared herself to look around, trying not to linger too much on anyone. She stared at what could only be professors at the front of the room, all sitting on a long slightly curved table, all looking around, thankfully not at her. She noticed Dumbledore sitting at the very center, a tiny man she’d known by the name of Professor Flitwick, a balding man in a green-ish suit sipping from a wine cup, a couple other teachers sitting at the right of Dumbledore, an empty seat she gathered was for McGonagall and, at the very corner of the table, sat Hagrid. She smiled softly at him, and to her surprise, he smiled back. 

“Very well, we’ll start the sorting ceremony before the Feast, as is usual.” Declared McGonagall, taking out a roll of long parchment from under her arm. “And to address what you all me be thinking, yes, there is a much older girl standing in between these children'' she looked at Elise who felt her ears burn, but her gaze remained proud. “She’s a transfer from Beauxbatons. She’ll be sorted as well and start studying as a sixth year.” 

The whispers began again, quieting down only a little as the witch started to call out names alphabetically. Barker, Marcus being the first to go, Elise saw the shaking kid walk the couple stairs that lead towards the ugly hat and saw McGonagall put it on his head, a couple seconds passed, and the hat yelled out “ _ Ravenclaw! _ ” The table to her right broke into loud applause and welcomed the beaming kid. As the names went by, Elise noticed how the ceiling seemed to be missing, looking up a clear night sky that was beaming back at her. She noticed the flags next, hovering magically above each table. 

The table to her far right was adorned in a green and silver emblem, and she could only guess those were the Slytherins. Professor McGonagall had filled her in just enough to know the basics of each house. The Slytherins were cunning, the Ravenclaw (the table next to her, adorned in blue and bronze) were the wise, the Gryffindor (the table to her left, adorned in gold and red) were the brave and the Hufflepuff (the table to her far left, adorned in yellow and black) were the loyal. Truth be told she didn’t have a preference. For all she cared, her time in the school might be limited, but she couldn’t help but feel curious as to where she’d end up. 

Soon enough, Annabel Kinsly was sorted (a cute, rosy cheeked Hufflepuff girl) and McGonagall called her name. 

“ _Labelle, Elise!_ ” her fake name, that is. It was agreed that her family name be hidden from everyone but the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall, to avoid a possible comotion from those aware of the recent news regarding her family name. 

Elise strode up the aisle, climbed the couple steps and saw from the corner of her eyes McGonagall place the hat into her head, covering her eyes with it. She could hear her heart hammering inside her ears. At first was darkness and the whispers around her hushed down. Then,

“ _ Curious _ ,” said a voice inside her head which made her jump a little. “ _ Your heart is brave and your intentions pure, but something inside seems… different _ ” 

_ Different?  _ thought Elise. 

“ _ There seems to be much mystery inside your head, too clouded with fog. Your soul feels braver than your mind; your  _ mind _ seems plagued with… venom. I also sense a desire inside your heart to prove yourself. There’s a strong sense of determination, a great cunning, which could be greatly explored in Slytherin. _ ” the voice purred. 

“ _ Though I am not sure whether you will actually enjoy being sorted there. Slytherin carries great legacies, both good and bad, which might help you find yourself, but something tells me your soul is determined to create your own, away from old chains that have kept you in the dark. I think you’ll find that houses are a lot more complicated than many might believe... _

“ _ Slytherin!”  _

She saw the whole green and silver table cheer standing up. Faces she did not recognize welcomed her at the table as she strode down the steps a little flushed. She shared smiles with the children that had also been sorted and introduced herself to some other kids closer to her age a little awkwardly. The little chat the hat had had with her inside her mind left her a little uneasy. The hat had noticed, Elise realized, that her mind had been blocked away. Did Nicola’s magic made the hat choose wrong for her House choice? She looked around the room and her eyes caught sight of the silly ghosts roaming above their heads before landing upon a dark hair, handsome face sitting across the room at the Gryffindor table. 

_ Oh no. Oh shit. _

Elise felt a sudden rush of blood coat her cheeks and looked down at her hands, they were shaking slightly. She looked up again a little bit more cautiously and saw that the handsome boy still had his eyes glued to her face. She cursed under her breath and faked a friendly smile to the people that had approached her, trying to hide her face as much as she could from the Gryffindor table. Under any other circumstances she might have been glad of seeing Sirius Black’s face, but not when she was carrying the fate of her family on her shoulders. Not when he alone could crumble down the little she had built. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo~~  
> this is my first Marauders fic so I hope u guys like it! All the characters belong entirely to JK, except for Elise, Wen and the Lagarde family. I really really hope u guys like it or find it interesting, do let me know what you think!


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